It Takes Two

It Takes Two

Every relationship has an ever-changing balance scale that is significantly dependent on the now events, location, and personal commitments. I bring this point up because I want to talk about a feeling that I’ve been struggling with for quite some time. An adjustment that I’ve once (even twice) before had to cope with, work through, and find my own strength.

For months I’ve been searching, wanting, pleading for the attention and proximity from a relationship that was once exemplar of just that. This person was my person. You see that the fame and glamorous life of being a twin is just that, but it also comes with so many underlying hardships. The desire, the need to be the same – identical – isn’t solely a societal expectation, but also a very personal and debilitating pressure. Going through these changes and physical losses have been tremendously heartbreaking for me and I’m sure for my twin as well. Taking such drastic measures to cope and deal with my situation while having my sister there every step of the way makes me realize how truly thankful I was and am. The one person that I can be so easily vulnerable with because they are so similar. They know me and I trust them because they’ve been there since the beginning and we’re practically the same, right? Wrong.

I realize now that I’ve come to a point where I want to be done searching for this once felt closeness because I know that it’s still there, just in a different form. As hard as I try to hold onto something that is no longer there or the way it used to be, I understand that I’m setting myself up for failure. I analyze what I might have done wrong to prevent them from staying. Did I push them away? Did I simply chose not to go? Could I – would I have done things differently? I don’t think I’ll ever find the answers, and I don’t think I am supposed to. We’ve begun to go our separate ways, start our own lives, focus on our individual priorities, and accept the fact that we are far from the same. Yes we call each other to realize our days, though separated by miles, went very much the same. And that is remarkable in itself; how closely you can relate to one person. But reflecting on this observation, I’ve definitely found relatable qualities with others that live closer to me. And that feeling of relief to know you are not alone in your feelings – you are not alone in this life, is equally as satisfying to open up to another who is willing to protect your vulnerabilities.

I mentioned earlier that I’ve found myself twice before – the first was my first contract dancing on a cruise line, the second was when we decided to move to different locations to give our energy to other relationships. Both times were challenging of course, but why did this time seem so much harder? Why was this time filled with much more loneliness than I could have anticipated? All the time spent together is now open…so open, it’s difficult to understand how we filled it. I suppose that’s why people search for their “soulmate;” so they never have to worry about the terrifying aspect of continuous solitude. I do enjoy my solitude but have not, until now, fully understood how much more I enjoy companionship.

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Lost In My Mind, In This World Of Mine

Lost In My Mind, In This World Of Mine

Feeling driven and suppressed, motivated and defeated in simultaneous waves. What exactly can I call this place I’m at in life?

With a running list of “to dos” I come home to defeat. “I’m done for the day,” I think to myself as my body grapples with fatigue, moving like sludge through my apartment. “Just a quick sit down and I’ll be ready ‘to do.’” But my mind rummages through its material and surfaces suppressed thoughts and I’m quickly engulfed by my obsessive need for answers to what I’m facing in this world of mine.

Am I too accommodating? Do I care too heavily for the convenience of others and repeatedly resort to placing myself on the back burner? Have I forgotten some passion? What on this earth am I searching for; wanting what I do not have, no longer and never had? Why do these thoughts even come to question? Perhaps it is a lack of certainty. Perhaps it is a lack of esteem. Perhaps it is a lack of security. Perhaps it is some derivative combination.

I feel a constant reminder, just as I’m occupied with fulfillment, of my MS and that I may never be without. Fievel’s friend sings, “Never say never” in the film An American Tale, and I reprimand myself for the mere thought of the word. Does using “may” previous to it make the word any less potent? Is that my excuse to stating what I will or will not do in the future? I wish I knew. But I do think that, though simple, what a valuable lesson to live by.

I believe that the mind’s power of thought can be both nurturing and depleting; a gamble, with hope to avoid the latter. So easily we can tear ourselves down or build upon the wants, the needs, the desires we possess. Today we are surrounded by quick-fix, self-help, be-happy strategies to incorporate in our daily lives. And to answer, of course I’ve succumb to reading these experience-based writings with their quick wit 5-step solutions and their catchy selling titles. It’s fascinating how easily you can access the inner workings of one person’s mind and what it took for them to come out on top of their own suppression. And you learn that though we are all so humanely similar, our biology is all so personal and heavily dependent on whether we’ve ourselves chosen to change.

To change. You fall in love with the idea, thinking of the endless possibilities, the enormous potential for “better.” But to change? You then feel the pressure of defeat; what a dangerous, hefty journey to tackle without complete certainty of the end result. Change would unequivocally disrupt the equilibrium you’ve arranged at present for yourself. There’s no doubt that it would. And here is where I find the beauty in change. Life is forever moving, forever growing, forever changing. No matter how we push to prevent it, the world will not stop and we will go with it – without choice, without attempt. I can say with certainty that we’re never stuck for eternity in one spot, because that spot will sink and we will sink and the world as we knew it will have changed, developed, and reshaped into a more workable state. The same goes for disease, the process, the progression, the reversion. It is forever changing. It can be stable; where activity ceased to engage. But the life around continues to bustle and there is no telling of what direction change may go.

So back to where I sit in my apartment, weak in my rest fretting over my worrisome fatigue. My body will never be the same. But then again, it never was the same as any day prior. I admit I worry without end about what the future looks like until I come to realize the distance I’ve come since the summer of 2015 (even earlier than 2014). And I must say that I have changed – grown for the better, in no way wishing I was back at that point in my life. So why do I keep thinking “my body will never be the same,” when in reality I will always be me, though not the exact same because I am living and with that growing and changing.

It seems as though I’m searching for some past feeling and I cannot for the life of me be patient enough to figure it out and make it happen. I guess that is why many change careers, move to new cities, and follow new and exciting relationships that all provide a rush of life into their souls. I suppose that’s part of the purpose of life; get lost in your world, embrace the change, and go forward into the maze your mind has constructed. An ever-working masterpiece is this world of mine.